


(All in) Good Time

by ghostofnoodlewrap



Series: Vaguely interconnected fics where Jon and Martin are kinky [8]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Birthday Sex, Blindfolds, Bondage, Breast Fucking, Discussion of top surgery, Impact Play, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Safeword Use, Shower Sex, Strap-Ons, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Male Character, Water fight (sexual)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27963167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofnoodlewrap/pseuds/ghostofnoodlewrap
Summary: Jon has complicated feelings about his chest.(Reading the previous parts of the series is not necessary, but highly welcome)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Vaguely interconnected fics where Jon and Martin are kinky [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808656
Comments: 77
Kudos: 174





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains a fair amount of dysphoria, discussions thereof, discussion of top surgery, and also titty fucking. While that's not that relevant to the first chapter (there will be content warnings at the start of relevant chapters as usual), I thought people might want a heads up.
> 
> Full disclaimer: I am not trans. While this fic is not coming from my own personal feelings regarding my body, I've done my best to research into gender dysphoria and hopefully this doesn't come off in an awful way.
> 
> Jon is trans in this. Feminine terminology is used for his genitalia.

Martin is the one responsible for their bed having about three dozen pillows and throw cushions. Whenever Jon asks why they have so many, Martin cites several months sleeping in the Archives on a tiny cot with only a single withered pillow. Most of them end up thrown off the bed before they go to sleep, but during the day they get either placed neatly on the bed, or shoved up at the headboard - depending on which of them made the bed. Either way, they make for a good backrest.

In Martin’s opinion, it’s better than the sofa. The sofa’s too narrow and too short, and it would take away from the sensation of Jon on top of him, bundled in a thick woollen jumper with his bare legs tangling with Martin’s. It’s a position Martin is really quite enjoying, thanks.

He’d be content to just lie there with Jon, revelling in the experience of _being_ , and enjoying it alongside Jon, and maybe falling asleep after some cuddles. But Jon twists up to kiss him, and that’s even better.

Jon peppers his forehead and nose with kisses before he takes Martin’s mouth. His hands scratch at Martin’s stubble before he twists them into his hair. Jon kisses him deeply - with the way his tongue explores, Martin suspects Jon may well know the layout of his mouth better than his dentist.

The hands don’t stray from his hair, and Martin tries to do the same - tries not to take this anywhere. But it’s hard. It really is. 

Martin touches Jon at the waist first - just lightly to check if he’ll flinch away. Jon’s waist and hip dysphoria aren’t that bad, but just sometimes they appear from nowhere. When Jon makes no move to stop Martin’s touch, he slides his hands up under the hem of Jon’s jumper to drink in the heat of his skin.

It’s achingly lovely until it isn’t. Jon’s warm weight on him is very nice and so are his kisses. Martin starts to feel himself grown hard. 

There’s no way to hide, with Jon very much on top of him. Jon just keeps kissing him though, not commenting on it. Martin very much wants to - he’s not even sure? Roll Jon over and devour him? He settles for sliding his hands down, under the fabric of Jon’s briefs, and grabbing a handful of ass. The action pushes Jon down against him, and Martin’s hips roll up into the pressure thoughtlessly.

Jon breaks the kiss. He puts a hand on Martin’s shoulder and pushes himself up. “So, um…”

“Not in the mood?” Martin asks. He removes his hands from Jon’s underwear and settles them around his waist instead, because maybe Jon doesn’t want to be touched that way, but Martin loathes the idea of not touching him at all.

Touching doesn’t have to be sexual, even if he does happen to have a hard on right now, which sort of takes away from the non-sexual cuddling he’s maybe going for.

“No.” Jon says.

“Maybe I should slip off to the bathroom, then.” Martin says. That way he can take care of the problem in his pants and come back to cuddle Jon. And they can pretend that little interlude never happened.

Jon shifts at that, laying his head on Martin’s chest and holding tightly to Martin’s shoulders. The little movement has Jon’s hips shifting over Martin’s own, and he gasps at the sensation against his hard cock. It’s a clearly possessive hold.

“Jon?” Martin asks, but Jon just grumbles something into his chest hair. “You don’t want me to go?” Martin guesses.

“No.”

“Do you want me to touch you? Y’know, like…” He doesn’t demonstrate, but he knows Jon gets the idea.

“No.” Jon says again.

“Do you feel like helping me, then?” Most of the time, Jon’s up for that, but it can be off the cards.

“Not really.” Jon says.

“So that’s a no.” Martin says.

“I didn’t say-”

“Don’t feel obligated, Jon.” Martin says. “I know sometimes you don’t mind, but right now it sounds like you do?” Jon doesn’t say anything, but Martin can feel the tension in his shoulders relax. “Besides, I’m a big boy who can get himself off.”

“You can do it here.” Jon says.

“Are you sure?” Martin asks.

“Yes.” Jon says. He rolls off Martin with a sigh. “You can look at me if you want.”

“Look at you- oh.” Martin says, because Jon is suddenly pulling off that voluminous jumper and there’s nothing underneath. “ _Oh_.”

Jon scoots down the bed and pulls the tie out of his hair. When he lies down, it pools like silk on the sheets. With his arms up over his head, he really is a pretty picture stretched out on the bed - brown skin naked aside from his briefs and covered in smatterings of body hair.

“Straddle me.” Jon commands.

Martin makes a choked off whimper. He shucks his boxers before obeying, lets his knees rest just outside Jon’s hips. He hovers above Jon.

“Are you sure about this?” Martin asks.

“Of course.” Jon says. “I don’t mind.”

“Still can’t touch?” Martin asks, just to be sure, because while this isn’t active participation, it probably does count as ‘helping out.’ Christ, this man is walking porn.

“The next thing I want to feel on my tits is your come.” Jon says.

“Jesus, Jon, I thought you didn’t want to be involved!”

“I’m not, really.” Jon says. “I’m just lying here and I might happen to say a few dirty things. Touch yourself.” He prompts.

Martin wraps a hand around his cock. Jon’s head is tilted back, his eyes closed. That’s probably a good thing, because it means Martin doesn’t have to pretend he only wants to look Jon in the eye. That’s not where he wants to look.

There was a time when Martin felt guilty for being so attracted to Jon’s chest. He’s over that now. Mostly. It was confusing to him at first - not the dysphoria Jon faces (because while he understands he can never really know what that’s like, he still understands it’s hellish on Jon), but the fact he was into it, wanted to touch it at all.

Martin’s gay, for Christ’s sake! He’d never got off to a nice bit of cleavage before.

Didn’t stop him from dreaming about fucking Jon’s tits.

But it’s not a woman’s chest, is it? Martin can’t speak for the average straight man, but he’s pretty sure hairy boobs are not a thing the average hetero man is into. And Jon has plenty of chest hair, especially since his doctor switched the brand of T he prescribed to Jon.

Maybe, Martin thinks as a couple of drops of pre-come splatter onto Jon’s sternum, it’s because he never gets to play with, or really even look at, Jon’s chest outside sexual situations. And his breasts are fun to play with - Jon makes the loveliest noises when his nipples are pinched.

The noises Jon makes. Those are a good thing to think about right now. Martin tightens the grip around his penis. It’s not going to be much longer now, especially with how nice Jon’s nipples look, all pebbled from the cool air.

“Do you like having me under you?” Jon asks. His back arches as he shifts.

“Jesus, Jon.” Martin says. “God, I’m- _fuck_.”

“Do it.” Jon says. “Make a mess of me.”

Martin does. The first splurt of come has enough force behind it to make it all the way up to Jon’s neck, but the rest dribble across his tits. It pools down in the middle between them.

Martin unstraddles Jon. He has the wherewithal to pass Jon a couple of tissues to clean himself up before he collapses beside Jon. Jon shuffles a little closer after wiping himself down, resting his head on Martin’s shoulder.

“Do you want your jumper back?” Martin asks, because it’s a fair guess that he does.

“Yeah.” Jon says.

Martin grabs it from where it ended up, halfways off the bed. It would be nice to pull it over Jon’s head himself, but Martin can just picture how unamused Jon would be at that idea, so he just passes it to Jon so that he can dress himself.

“Was that okay?” Martin asks.

“I think so.” Jon says. Then he hums and adds ‘yes. It was. I love you.”

Martin smiles. He reaches out for Jon and pulls him in close so that they’re almost in the position that began this whole mess in the first place. “I love you too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Jon experiences some pretty heavy dysphoria in this chapter.  
> -Said dysphoria is trigged by Jon catching sight of his reflection during sex.  
> -Safewording.

“So, how delayed do you think we’ll be?” Jon asks.

The train journey is supposed to be around five and a half hours, but Jon knows all too well that the British rail service rarely runs on time. The train isn’t delayed yet (he Knows that much), but there’s no telling what lies ahead on the tracks.

“Don’t you know that?” Martin teases.

Martin scans the boards to find their platform. It isn’t too busy - still morning, but late enough that the rush hour traffic has abated. Should mean the train isn’t rammed.

“I can’t see the future, Martin.” Jon says. “You know that.”

“No inkling at all?” Martin says.

Jon rolls his eyes. “Roughly thirty-five per cent of trains are delayed, but only twelve point two by five minutes or more.”

In the end, some sixish hours later, they arrive in Edinburgh twenty minutes behind schedule. The journey up was decent, in Jon’s opinion - certainly moreso than flying - although things got a little noisy when a small group of lads got on with several six packs (and left behind numerous empty cans when they departed).

There’s a light drizzle in the air as they exit the train station and line up at the taxi rink. It’s a short enough line, and soon enough their bags are being loaded into the boot, and the cabby doesn’t look that perturbed to be transporting two men who have been waiting for a cab hand in hand. Then again, this is Edinburgh, not Glasgow.

The hotel isn’t far. Close enough to walk if their bags weren’t heavy and it wasn’t raining. But, well, this trip was always about indulging themselves.

Check-in goes smoothly. The wide hotel lobby is almost empty, and there’s parts of the restaurant in view that Jon peers at. There’s no one in it now, but they’re booked in for breakfast each morning that they’re here.

“You don’t think we went too upmarket?” Martin asks on the lift up to their room.

Yes, it wasn’t the cheapest hotel. But they must have struck a good deal because a five-star hotel shouldn’t have been this cheap. And suddenly Jon just knows - there aren’t any vacancies and the dates he and Martin picked out just so happened to fit exactly between two other bookings. It’s cheap because of how unlikely it would be for someone to want the room for all four of the nights they’re staying.

It’s a nicer hotel room than many that Jon has stayed in. The bed is larger than the one they have at home and the towels neatly laid out on it are soft and thick. Martin runs off to the toilet while Jon snoops.

A couple of minutes later the toilet flushes and Martin re-emerges. “So, they have an orgy shower.” Martin says.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jon says.

“I’m not joking, that bathroom is like a spa and the shower is big enough for six. Seven or eight at a push.”

Jon walks into the bathroom. Martin was not joking - in fact he might have underestimated. There’s a large bathtub, too, but that looks like it would be a squeeze with only the two of them. But the shower!

The largest of the showerheads is actually set into the ceiling and covers nearly the whole area of the shower. There are three handheld showerheads similar to the one they have at home, and a good dozen jets coming horizontally out of the wall too.

“That’s sizeable.” Jon says. An understatement.

“Want to take a shower with me?” Martin asks.

“Right now?” Jon replies. Then again, looking at that monstrosity, Jon knows he’ll be taking more and longer showers while they’re here. It would be a waste not to.

“If you’re up for it.” Martin says. “We don’t have any plans and it’s too early for dinner. We could take a nice long shower where someone else has to pay the water bill, then have a nap. Or, y’know, use the bed for _other_ purposes.”

Jon rolls his eyes at Martin, but he does start taking off his shirt. It’s been a long day of travel and a shower with his boyfriend really does sound like a good idea. As for whatever might happen after that? Well that just depends on where certain urges may happen to take them.

“Is that a yes?” Martin asks.

“It’s a yes.” Jon says.

Jon makes a little meep as Martin surges forwards to kiss him. Jon indulges him for a minute or so, but his hands are still trapped in the fabric he was trying to get off his body, so he can’t touch Martin like he wants.

“You have to let me get naked if you want to take a shower with me.” Jon says as he breaks away.

“I like it when you’re naked.” Martin says.

“I know.” Jon replies. “You need to be naked too.”

Martin snorts, and he kisses Jon’s nose before stepping away to strip off. In short order, they’re both nude. Neither of them have unpacked their toiletries yet, Jon realises, but as he looks over to the shower, he sees it’s fully stocked. There are a couple of washcloths in there too, but he’s hoping Martin will be amenable to Jon putting his hands all over him in an attempt to suds him up. He probably will be.

Martin struggles with the shower door for a moment before he realises it slides. “After you.” He says to Jon.

There are, emphatically, too many buttons and dials to deal with on the control panel. Jon presses the largest one and both of them shriek as cold water starts raining down on their heads. Jon tries another set of controls, hoping to warm it up, but it only turns the jets on. The cold doesn’t last long, though, especially when Martin reaches over and twists something. Very soon, it’s steamy.

“Better?” Martin asks.

“Definitely.” Jon replies. “Wash my hair for me?”

The gentle scratch of Martin’s fingertips against Jon’s scalp is heavenly. Jon’s head lolls back onto Martin’s shoulder and he doesn’t keep his groan silent.

“That’s not making it any easier, love.” Martin says.

“Make it work.” Jon tells him, because he has no intention of moving anytime soon. “Does yours need washing?”

“Not today.” Martin says as he reaches for some conditioner. It’s probably not nearly as nice as what Jon usually uses, but like hell is he leaving this shower to go and find his usual supplies. “You’re welcome to wash my back though.”

“Among other parts, I expect.” Jon says.

“Guilty as charged.”

Jon kisses him quickly once, knowing he’ll be coming back for more later on. He has no intention of leaving this shower before he gets a proper kiss out of Martin. At least a proper kiss. He could be in the mood for more.

Martin stands obligingly still as Jon soaps up his back. He shivers when Jon’s nails scratch gently down his back. The shower gel is a different scent to the one Martin usually uses and Jon idly wonders how different Martin will smell afterwards. Probably not too different.

There’s a sharp crack as Jon slaps Martin’s arse. Martin yelps. It wasn’t even hard - not like when Jon asks Martin to spank him - but wet skin on wet skin is loud, and the shower chamber echoes.

“Jon!” Martin says, then “Jesus Christ, handsy aren’t we?” When Jon rubs suds over and between his buttocks.

“Just making sure you’re clean…” Jon says, but by that time he’s already crouched down to wash Martin’s legs.

“Are you now?” Martin says with a wry smile.

“I hope you know I expect you to return the favour.” Jon says. “I want you to touch me _everywhere_.”

“You should come back up here so that I can.” Martin says.

Jon ends up giving his laugh to the inside of Martin’s mouth. When Martin’s arms wrap around Jon’s shoulders, there’s soap on his hands. Jon’s not sure when he had the chance to apply it, but he does enjoy the feeling of Martin stroking over his skin.

Martin really does touch him everywhere - once he’s done with Jon’s back, he uses the situation as an excuse to grope Jon’s bum, before moving to his arms. Then he takes a step or so back to get at Jon’s front.

“Can I touch-” Jon’s already lifting Martin’s hands to his chest before he finishes the question.

(It’s not that Jon gets frustrated about the fact that Martin asks pretty much every time. It’s more the fact that Martin has to ask, because Jon’s dysphoria is so bloody fickle. Life would be so much simpler if Martin could just know - or fuck it, even Know - whether it’s okay without asking. But life doesn’t work like that.)

“I said everywhere.” Jon says. “Um..”

“Mmm?” Martin hums in question before his hands slide onto Jon’s chest.

“You can be, uh, _thorough_ , but don’t linger too long?”

“Okay.” Martin says, and he swallows the whimper Jon makes when his hands come up to cup Jon’s breasts.

True to his word, Martin only gives his tits a couple of squeezes, although he does make sure to get a good lather right the way across Jon’s chest. He focuses most though on Jon’s nipples. That’s always the safest bet, and they’re bloody sensitive, each tweak on them sending an echoing jolt through Jon’s cunt.

Martin turns away to replenish his soap supply. Instead of stepping back in after that, he sinks down onto his knees and starts washing Jon’s feet and ankles.

“Alright down there?”

“Course.” Martin says. He snorts. “I’d spend the rest of my life on my knees between your legs if you asked me to.”

“Martin!” Jon hopes he can pass his flush off as the effects of the heat of the shower.

“Yes dear?” Martin asks. It comes out filled with mirth, although that might at least partially be because he can already see how turned on Jon is from this. 

Martin’s hand sets itself flat between Jon’s legs. Before Jon has a chance to position himself how he likes and grind down, Martin fingers spread, parting Jon’s lips. Martin licks his lips at the sight.

Jon takes Martin by the back of the head and guides him in before Martin can ask if he wants this. His lips form a nice little seal around Jon’s clit and he begins to suck. It’s all Jon can do to stop his knees buckling so that he can stay upright.

“Fingers, Martin.” Jon says.

Martin slips a finger into Jon, nice and deep. Then, when he feels how wet and loose Jon already is, he adds at least one more. Jon can’t actually tell how much he’s being fucked open on, too lost in the sensation it’s providing.

Then Martin’s fingers skate over a spot inside Jon’s cunt that makes his knees weak. “There, _there_.” He whispers.

Martin takes his instructions, prodding against it time and time again. It doesn’t take long for Jon to come after that, and Martin doesn’t let up his attentions until Jon is pushing his head away. He just came so hard that more is frankly over the line of too bloody much.

“Good?” Martin asks.

“Yeah.” Jon says.

“That was really hot.” Martin says. He starts to get up, and when Jon looks down at him, he can see evidence of just how much Martin enjoyed that. “Are you up for more becua- _Argh_! Jesus, fuck.”

“Are you okay?” Jon asks, because it’s not like Martin slipped or anything. Then again, it’s not like either of them are exactly young anymore. Jon could just Know what’s wrong but-

“I didn’t realise this shower had a built in bidet.” Martin says.

“I’m sorry?”

“One of the jets got me right in the arsehole as I stood up.” Martin says.

There’s a moment, and then both of them are laughing. Martin reaches for the controls again, and he must select the right button, because the jets turn off.

“Not enjoying the jets?” Jon asks.

“I’ll show you enjoying the jets…” Martin says. “Actually…”

Jon squeals as Martin pushes him up against the cold tiles of the shower. Martin doesn’t have to slam him up against it - which is a good thing because Jon can feel the jet nozzles digging into his back - but he’s so much stronger than Jon is that Jon doesn’t have a hope of escape.

Martin reaches to turn the jets on again.

“No!” Jon screeches. “I don’t want to take a water-jet up the arse!”

“I’m not planning to get it up your _arse_ , Jon…”

He holds Jon down with a forearm across his collar bones, and reaches to twist the knob that controls the jets. Martin does it slowly, letting the jets bubble from a drip to a stream. It resolutely does not hit Jon in the arsehole.

It also doesn’t hit Jon right in the clit, which is probably what Martin was aiming for. Martin lets him shift and get a better position where the water hits him in a better spot. The position leaves him balancing on his tip toes, but it’s worth it. There’s no easy handhold to help him hold the position, so he settles for holding onto Martin.

“Are you on board with this?” Martin asks.

Jon nods sharply. “It’s not dissimilar to using a shower head to, you know.” Jon says.

“You’ve used a shower head to jerk off?” Martin says.

“Shut up! I was fifteen and had limited choice with sex toys.”

“Sure, sure.” Martin says.

“I said shut up! Can you pulse it?” Jon asks.

“Pulse it?” Martin asks.

“The pressure changes when you twist it, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then fucking twist it!”

It’s a little stop-start as Jon lays out a boundary of how much pressure is too much pressure. It’s not like he wants his clit washed off, goddamn it. But after not too much trial and error, Martin settles into a nice little rhythm and Jon’s eyes flutter closed as the sensation washes over him.

Martin leans down to kiss Jon, but Jon doesn’t have the coordination to really kiss Martin back. Once he realises this, Martin sets himself into leaving some lovely marks on Jon’s neck instead. Either way, he’s probably enjoying the sounds spilling out of Jon’s mouth. Bastard.

There’s no real way to thrust or grind down into the water pressure, so all Jon can do is try to hold his position, even though his ankles are aching from standing on his tip-toes. It’s worth it though, for the way his orgasm goes from building gently to a sucker punch in the gut with so little warning. Jon comes hard enough that he’d be on the floor if Martin’s weren’t there to hold him up.

“Bed.” Jon growls afterwards.

“Hell yes.” Martin replies. “Dry off, first? The sheets will be horrible tonight if we don’t.”

The result of that is the quickest towel-off Jon has ever had. And yes, maybe his hair is more wet than damp, but he ties it back so that it doesn’t get everywhere. He can live with a damp spot on a pillow if it comes to that.

Jon ends up clambering onto the bed any-which-way. It’s far too big to be sensible anyway - he could probably stretch himself out across the width of it and not have his feet hang over the edge.

“How do you want me?” Jon asks.

“Hands and knees?” Martin suggests. “Yeah, just like that.”

It leaves Jon facing down towards the foot of the bed, but he supposes he can just ask Martin to pass him a pillow if he feels he needs one. The bed dips as Martin climbs on behind him, then Jon feels hands on his hips.

“Crap, I didn’t grab a condom.” Martin says.

“I’m fine without if you can bring yourself to pull out when you come.”

“Always.”

That’s a lie. Not because Martin doesn’t try, but because sometimes accidents happen. Sometimes Martin doesn’t know he’s about to shoot until right before he does. And sometimes Jon whispers into his ear that he’s exactly in the right mood for a creampie.

Martin slips in from behind. He gives Jon a couple of long, slow stokes just to check he’s ready for it before his hips really start snapping.

Jon leans down, braces himself on his forearms instead of his hands to get the angle better. He can go after his clit later, when he’s ready to come, but for now he just sinks into the sensation of Martin inside of him. Of how Martin fills him up more than he thought possible. This position lets him get really deep.

It’s a testament to the quality of the furniture that the bed doesn’t rock or the springs squeal with how hard Martin put it through its paces. Martin picks up his pace, and he goes hard enough at it that he punches Jon’s breath out in little ah-ah-ahs with his thrusts.

It doesn’t last too long like that. Jon may not wear his strap that often (although it’s currently packed in his bag just in case), but he does know thrusting like that is downright tiring. It is very satisfying though, and Jon knows that if something has been touching his clit through that, he would have come again by now.

Martin slows down and pulls Jon up and back. He slips out of Jon’s cunt, probably more on accident than on purpose, as he repositions Jon in his lap, his chest pressed to Jon’s back.

“Okay?” Martin asks.

“Yeah.” Jon replies. “Need me to do some of the work?”

“Maybe a little.” Martin says. He reaches down and angles himself back inside Jon. “I can still thrust from here, though.”

Martin proves his point, jerking his hips up into Jon. Jon’s still the one with the leverage, though. After finding the mattress too soft for the purpose, he places his hands on Martin’s knees and uses them to hold himself up. From there it’s an easy drop down the length of Martin’s cock.

Jon gets himself into a rhythm that he can hold, and Martin joins in, thrusting up as Jon drops down. Martin’s free hand curls around Jon’s waist and finds his clit.

There’s a mirrored wardrobe opposite the bed. Once upon a time, Jon would have needed his glasses on to see the image laid out on it this clearly. But it’s like crystal. His vision hasn’t been impaired in years now. None of the glasses he still habitually wears sometimes have prescription lenses in them anymore.

Jon fixates on his reflection. At first he’s watching the slide of Martin’s cock into him as he takes it, but then his eyes wander to other things. The silly faces he was making in arousal fade when he notices his chest.

Every up-and-down thrust has them bouncing. He should be able to feel that, but it’s like the sensation has been blocked out. He can still see it in the mirror, though.

God he thought they were smaller than this. They shrunk some when he went on T, didn’t they? Or maybe he’s put on weight with all the biscuits Martin keeps bringing him with his tea. He doesn’t want to look, but he can’t tear his eyes away.

Even if he didn’t look, they’d still be there.

It would be better if he stopped bouncing himself in Martin’s lap, he knows. But to break out from that cycle seems impossible. There’s a safeword just on the other side of his lips, but it’s like his tongue and lips have forgotten how to make words. All he can do is groan.

To Martin, it probably sounds like Jon is enjoying himself.

The top of Martin’s head is also in the reflection, his face buried into Jon’s shoulder. He can’t see the mirror. He has no reason to believe anything is wrong. Does Jon even have the right to burst that illusion for him?

Closing his eyes does nothing to help. It’s just hiding from the truth. And anyway, Jon wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he can see through his own eyelids at this point.

Martin’s hands slide up, under his ribs. Jon knows where they’re heading. Martin might think to ask first, but he also might not. After all, Jon gave him permission earlier. God what was he _thinking_?

Those fingers skate just onto the curve that shouldn’t be there.

“Martin, I. Red.” He chokes out. “Red.”

Martin finds the strength to just scoop Jon out of his lap and plop him onto the bed. Jon feels like he should be shivering, but he’s still warm all over. The look on Martin’s face is more concern than anything else. That’s good, but it’s not like Jon was expecting him to be angry or anything.

“Jon, what… no, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Martin says. “What do you need?”

“The mirror.” Jon says. “I could see...”

Martin looks over at the mirror he probably didn’t even notice was there before. His eyes narrow at it slightly, like he’s offended that it isn’t apologising for upsetting Jon.

“Do you want me to get your binder?” Martin asks.

“I don’t want you to leave me.” Jon says.

“Can I hold your hand, Jon?” Martin asks.

Jon doesn’t even need to think to make that decision. He thrusts his hand out in Martin’s general direction almost before Martin has finished the question.

Martin captures Jon’s hand with both of his own, scarred skin encapsulated by Martin’s cool and pudgy hands. His thumb traces soothing circles on Jon’s wrist. And there’s no question of it - Jon’s anxiety, Jon’s dysphoria is still running on a highwire. But it does take the edge off a little.

“Would you be more comfortable if you were wearing clothes right now?” Martin asks.

Jon barks out a laugh. He’s not exactly clear where it came from, but it serves the same purpose as the answer he’d give: no shit, Sherlock.

“Okay.” Martin says. “Would it help if I got off the bed and got some clothes for you? I can help you get dressed if you like.”

“I think you’d only prove a hindrance getting me into a binder.” Jon mumbles.

“Is that a yes?” Martin asks. When there’s no answer, he prompts “Jon?”

“Yes.”

Jon feels the bed move as Martin gets up. He doesn’t look around. He doesn’t want to catch a glimpse of his reflection like this. A minute or so later, Martin is back. He lays fabric over Jon’s lap. It looks to be a full outfit rather than just a binder, too. The shirt is a baggy one, something that Martin packed not Jon. But Martin knows him well enough to know that a baggy shirt is favourable right now.

Jon does have to stand on shaking legs to get dressed, because the binder Martin bought over is one of the ones that really needs to go on inside-out, upside-down, and legs first. Jon throws the shirt on after that, then looks over to Martin, who’s still hovering like a nervous fruit fly. He hasn’t gotten dressed.

“Did you want to carry on?” Jon asks, because while Martin’s erection is drooping, it’s still there.

“I’m sorry, what?” Martin says.

Jon shifts his weight from side to side. “Just carry on. With, you know…” Jon can think of several gestures he could use to express what he means, but they all seem a little crude, so he just waves towards Martin’s crotch.

“Uh, no.” Martin says. “Hard pass.”

“But you’re still… I don’t know! Planting a flagpole.”

“Planting a flagpole?” Martin says. “Jesus, Jon…”

“You know what I mean!” Jon says, well aware he’s now crimson.

“I might still be a bit turned on,” Martin says, “but you’re clearly not comfortable with sex right now and I’m not at all comfortable with making you carry on.”

“Well, what are we going to do?” Jon asks.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Martin asks.

“No.” Jon says. “I- yeah, no.”

“Okay.” Martin replies. “Then we’ll leave it at that. How about we both get dressed and maybe go for a walk before dinner?”

“Won’t you be uncomfortable?” Jon asks.

“Why would I be?”

“Blue balls.” Jon says. That’s a thing, right? “Or maybe you’ll just end up spending the whole time thinking about having sex with me.”

“You know, that’s a solid seventy percent of all the time I spend with you.” Martin says.

Jon looks at him for a moment. He’s a solid seventy percent sure Martin is joking. But his poker face is also proving pretty hard to crack.

“What?” Martin asks.

“God, allosexual people are weird.” Jon says.

Martin laughs. “Just be glad you don’t have to be one of them.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Discussion of top surgery

Jon ends up taking a second shower that evening, after dinner. This time, he does it alone, once Martin’s taken his and already left the bathroom mirror all steam-fogged.

He picks up his binder before he gets dressed for bed and considers it. He shouldn’t put it on, Jon knows, not for bed. But the idea of doing it is still comforting, even if his ribs would hate him tomorrow morning. Jon steels himself and puts it down, putting on instead the loose and comfortable clothing he brought in here to wear to bed. The mirror is still too steamed up to make out his reflection, but he knows this shirt is baggy enough that you can barely tell he has a chest under it.

Martin’s waiting in the bedroom when Jon opens up the bathroom door. He doesn’t look round at the sound of the door opening, as he appears to be too engrossed in his book. Jon watches Martin for a few moments, the turn of the pages slow as his boyfriend squints slightly at them. And suddenly Jon Knows that it’s only a few years until Martin will need a pair of reading glasses.

Martin looks up when he hears Jon’s footsteps, the quiet rustle of fabric as he walks. He pulls back the corner of the bedspread for Jon to climb in and lifts up his arm as an offering for Jon to fit under it.

Jon takes it gladly. From here he can see the pages of Martin’s book too, and he doesn’t really care that he hasn’t read the fifty or so pages at the start of the book. And he reads faster than Martin, so it’s not like Martin ever turns the page before he’s done.

“Alright?” Martin asks when Jon rests his head on his shoulder at the end of the chapter.

Jon knows that could mean ‘in general.’ He knows Martin is unlikely to bring up what happened earlier because Jon himself said he didn’t want to talk about it.

“I want to get top surgery.” Jon says.

“Okay.” Says Martin. “I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to help with that besides supporting you, but if there is, let me know.”

“I mean, I’ve wanted it for years.” Jon says. “But it’s always been a long term goal. Something that I wanted, but didn’t really make plans to get.”

“Like a holiday you want to take, but you never got further than picking the destination?” Martin says.

“I guess?” Jon answers. “It’s free on the NHS, but the waitlist last years, and I always thought ‘what if I’ve changed my mind by the time it’s my turn?’”

“I don’t think you’ll change your mind.” Martin says. “I mean, tell me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got some chest dysphoria?”

“Why, Martin,” Jon says dryly, “whatever gave you that idea?”

“I’m just saying I don’t think you’ll change your mind.”

“But I like having my chest played with. Some of the time, at least.” Jon says.

“I mean, you’ll still have your nipples, right?” Martin says.

Jon shakes his head. “They’ll be there, but I won’t have any sensation in them.”

“What?”

“The way they normally do it destroys a lot of nerves. In fact, the surgeon normally removes the nipples entirely and then sticks them back on.” Martin looks at him in mild alarm as Jon speaks. “There are other ways to do it that preserve sensation, but you really need to have a small chest to begin with to get them.”

“And you’re not small.”

Jon shakes his head. “There may be a chance if I go private, but it’s still low. At least the waiting time would be shorter.”

“Are you thinking of private, then?”

“The pay for Head Archivist is enough.” Jon says. “I thought about it when I first got promoted, but Prentiss came up before I made the decision. And life’s been crazy since then.”

Or it was. Up until a couple of months ago. Up until Scotland. Now, everything is almost disturbingly calm and Jon’s not even sure if he believes it’s not the calm before the storm.

“But nothing’s looming over our heads now.” Martin says.

“I’m still scared.” Jon says. “It’s a big surgery. The recovery time is a couple of weeks and-”

“Jon?” Martin says.

“Yes?”

“Did you or did you not let Jared Hopworth remove two of your ribs?”

“...I did. What of it?”

“You let an Avatar of the Flesh reach into your body and remove two of your bones and you’re afraid of going under the scalpel?”

“I do not need you to call me out like this!” Jon says.

Martin holds his hands up. “It sounds like you have the means to do it now, if you want to. And I think really you’ve already made up your mind. I’m not going to talk you out of it for you.”

“It would be simpler if I had no enjoyment of my breasts. But sometimes…” Jon says. “And you like playing with them too.”

“This isn’t about me.” Martin says. 

“I know, but-”

“Not buts!” Martin says. “Yes, I like playing with your chest. But a lot of that is because you like it. Before you, I’d never been with someone who wasn’t a cis man and I will have no trouble being attracted to you after surgery. Seeing you more comfortable with your body is more important to me.”

“You still want to fuck my tits.” Jon says.

He regrets saying it almost as soon as the accusation slips out. It was such a long time ago that Martin told him that and while it’s never been brought up again, Jon hasn’t forgotten.

“It’s not a dealbreaker.” Martin says. “And I’ll never mention it again if you don’t want me to.”

“I’m still willing to try.” Jon says.

He sits up from where he was lounging on Martin’s chest. The duvet peels back as he becomes more upright and flops forwards as Jon peels off his shirt.

“What are you _doing_?” Martin asks.

“You want to?” Jon says. “Have at it.”

Jon curls his shoulders forwards, tries to get his upper arms to press his tits closer together. Hopefully that makes him more appealing to Martin. It is maybe working, from the way Martin’s Adam's apple bobs as he looks down.

“I really don’t think this is the right time.” Martin says. “We need to talk more about this.”

“At least touch me.” Jon says.

“Jon, I-”

Frustrated at Martin’s hesitation, Jon picks up Martin’s hands and slaps them onto his chest. It stings slightly, but that’s okay. Jon holds Martin’s hands there until he’s sure Martin isn’t going to treat his chest like a hot stove-top.

“Alright then.” Martin says.

Martin gives him a gentle squeeze and Jon feels the aftershocks of that echo somewhere much further south. Emboldened, possibly from the fact Jon isn’t having a negative reaction, Martin does it again, a little harder. Jon turns his head away from the sight of Martin’s fingers digging into his flesh, but it still feels good.

There’s a sigh, and then Martin’s hands are gone.

“Why did you stop?” Jon asks. He sits up a little on his elbows.

“Oh, you turned away. We don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“I know. Mostly I just don’t like looking. It still feels good.” Jon says.

“Do you want me to blindfold you?” Martin asks.

“Kinky.” Jon waggles his eyebrows and Martin snorts. “That might be a decent idea, though. Do you have a scarf or anything?”

“You know, I’m not really the silk scarf sort of gay, so we’ll have to make do.” Martin says. (That’s not to say they have no silk scarves between them, but they’ve all been left at home. And they’re not typically used for _fashion_.) He picks up the shirt Jon stripped off. “Will this do?”

Jon props himself up a little more so that Martin can tie the folded fabric over his head. The resulting blindfold is functional, but that’s about all Jon can say for it. It isn’t that secure and he knows a sharp shake of the head would be enough to dislodge it.

He can also see through it, somewhat, but not in a way where the shapes make any sense. Jon knows if he wanted to see through it, really See, he could. But that would defeat its purpose.

Martin carefully rearranges them so that Jon is in his arms, Jon’s back tucked neatly up into Martin’s front. Martin’s arms slide around him, one of them worming its way through the non-existent gap between Jon’s body and the mattress.

Martin’s hands keep contact with Jon’s skin as they slide over his ribs and back towards his chest. Jon’s glad of that, the trailing touch, because now that he’s blindfolded he’d just be waiting in anticipation for Martin to touch him otherwise.

“Is this still okay?” Martin asks. 

“Touch me, Martin.” Jon means for it to come out as stern, but it’s almost breathless. He’s almost shaking with want.

Martin’s hands give him a slow squeeze, ending with a stroke over Jon’s nipples. Jon shifts at that, his thighs pressing together impulsively. Martin does it again, and again, and again, and Jon has a fair idea of how damp he’s getting between the legs.

“You don’t have to let me do this, you know.” Martin says. “I could just-”

“You think we’re doing this just for _you_?” Jon snaps.

“I’m just saying, if you want me to stop…”

“If you take your hands off me it better be because they’re going between my legs.” Jon says.

“Between your… Oh.” Martin says. “Are you…?”

“Yes!” Jon says.

One of Martin’s hands does leave his tits then, the one slung over instead of under his body. Heat curls in Jon’s belly in anticipation as it slides over his stomach and dips underneath his waistband. It does not find underwear beneath.

Martin’s fingers slide through his folds and it’s like lightning when he brushes up against Jon’s clit. Jon gasps and bucks up into the touch, but Martin doesn’t stop there, carrying on down until his fingers are probing Jon’s entrance.

“Jesus, Jon.” Martin whispers as he coats his fingers in the slick there. Jon doesn’t always get this wet, even when Martin takes him right up to, or even over the edge. T will do that to you. Fuck up your lubrication. But today it appears to be playing ball.

Martin keeps one hand pinching at Jon’s nipple while the other strokes over his clit, slicked with the fluid accumulating between Jon’s legs. Jon shivers, shakes, and he’s gone before Martin even has the time to slip any fingers inside him.

While Jon comes down from his orgasm, Martin slides a finger, then a second one into him. He tests how much stretch Jon has to give.

“Want you to fuck me.” Jon says.

“Let me open you up a bit first.” Martin says.

Jon tolerates a bit of perfunctory fingering. Martin’s other hand has slipped from his chest to somewhere around his waist, and Martin does his best to hold Jon still as he tries to fuck himself on Martin’s fingers.

“I’m ready.” Jon insists a few minutes later.

Really, he could stand for a bit more stretching, but he doesn’t have the patience. It’s not like there’ll be more than a slight sting - Martin got him pretty loose earlier this evening. And if Martin’s coming in from behind, spooning Jon, then he’s not going to have the leverage to go at it like a jackhammer.

“Let me just grab a condom.” Martin says.

“No condom.” Jon says. He twists his head to look at Martin. “If you’re okay with that?”

“Jesus.” Martin says. “Okay, let me just…”

Martin starts pulling down Jon’s sweats one-handed. Jon wriggles to help him along. Martin only gets them down to midthigh before he decides that’s enough. Then there’s a little more of a shuffle before he settles back in behind Jon.

“Try to pull out, if you can.” Jon says as he feels the head of Martin’s cock slide up between his thighs. “I don’t much fancy a third shower this evening.”

“I’ll try.” Martin says, as he angles himself.

He doesn’t get the angle the first time, but on the second he’s sliding into Jon. He can’t do much in the way of pulling back to thrust, so Martin limits himself to small movements and grinding his cock deep into Jon. The sensation of it makes Jon’s toes curl.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” Martin asks.

“My clit.” Jon says. “My clit, dear God -oh, _oh_ …”

Martin’s hand reaches around and he takes Jon’s clit between two fingers. Martin strokes him off to the same rhythm as his gentle thrusts.

“I’m going to come.” Jon says, breathless.

“Already?”

“Yes! Martin, I.” Jon gasps as Martin’s fingers hit him just right and he falls. “Ah, ah-ah. Fuck.”

Jon trembles off into laughter, but Martin just swears. From the way Jon’s clenching around the aftershocks, he can imagine why.

But Martin manages to hold off from coming right then and there. His hand shakes as it slips away from Jon’s clit. He takes a moment, his hips still, as he shudders a breath into Jon’s hair.

“Don’t stop.” Jon says. “Please.”

“Not too much?” Martin asks.

It is, really, but there’s pleasure bleeding through the sting of oversensitivity. And Jon is going to have another orgasm, even if he has to walk along a knife’s edge to get there.

“Never.” Jon says. He shifts his hips to feel the weight of Martin inside him. “Fuck me.”

“Fuck…” Martin swears, and he begins bucking into Jon again with short sharp strokes.

It’s all Jon can do but hold on for the ride. He clamps down over Martin’s free arm until he gets the hint and Martin squeezes him tight around the middle. Keeping him grounded. The other hand is angled for Jon to grind into, each thrust of Martin’s hips butting Jon’s clit into his hand. Jon takes it all, toes curling.

Then, abruptly, he’s empty. Martin’s seed splatters on his thighs.

“Jesus, I almost didn’t get out of your in time.” Martin says.

“Martin.”

“I did though!” Martin says. “I didn’t come in you. Just a near miss.”

“Martin!” Jon says again.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to make me get myself off?” Jon says with a tone that makes it clear that is not what he is intending.

“Sorry,” Martin says, “do you want my mouth?”

“Please.”

Jon shifts onto his back while Martin slides down the bed to situate himself between Jon’s thighs. Jon yelps as Martin throws his legs over his shoulders, and then again as Martin’s mouth lands on him.

Martin doesn’t tease, which is a good thing because Jon just doesn't have the patience for that right now. Two fingers slide into him and Martin’s lips seal themselves around Jon’s clit. Jon’s hands fly to Martin’s head. He pulls on Martin’s hair perhaps a little harder than he should, but he just can’t help himself.

Martin suckles on Jon’s clit almost as if he’s nursing. The noises that fall out of Jon’s mouth are near constant. Martin has to hold Jon’s hips down as Jon bucks up into the delicious pressure, lest Martin end up with a chipped tooth.

“Don’t stop. I’m close.” Jon manages between gasps. Jon feels his orgasm building. He does his best to starve it off, just to make it stronger and longer when it finally does crash. But Martin’s mouth is relentless and there’s no way to hold it off for long without pushing Martin’s head away and like hell is he going to do that.

He comes with a noise that’s bordering on a scream. Fluid gushes from somewhere below where Martin’s mouth is sealed and Jon can feel his cunt spasm rhythmically around the fingers inside him. Martin doesn’t let up, sucking Jon’s clit right through his orgasm and out of the other side. He keeps going right until the point where Jon starts to push his head away instead of trying to smush it closer into his crotch.

“Okay?” Martin asks with his head pillowed on Jon’s thigh.

“Very.” Jon says.

“Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll go and grab you a washcloth.” Martin says.

Jon chuckles. “Best boyfriend.” He ruffles Martin’s hair - already horribly mussed, before digging his fingers further in to scratch at Martin’s scalp.

Martin groans, his eyes fluttering closed, and Jon smirks.

“Okay,” Martin says some minutes later, “if you keep that up I’m going to fall asleep right here and then you won’t get your washcloth.”

“Such a tragedy!” Jon says, but he lets Martin up.

By the time Martin’s back, Jon’s already dressed again. Or, at least, he’s wearing his shirt again which is about as dressed as he needs to be for bed. It’s plenty warm in the hotel room.

“You know, that wasn’t the way I foresaw this conversation going.” Jon says as Martin passes him a dampen washcloth.

“Me either.” Martin says. “I mean, not that I’ve thought about having this conversation or anything, so, uh-”

“Martin.” Jon says, tossing the damp cloth onto the floor now that he’s clean.”

“Right. Shutting up now.” Martin says.

Jon kisses him once, just sweet. Martin tucks a stray strand of hair behind Jon’s ear as he pulls away.

“I do want to try, sometime.” Jon says.

“Try?”

“Having you fuck my tits.” Jon says.

“You really don’t have-” Martin begins.

“I might enjoy it.” Jon says. You know, after that display. “It can’t hurt to try. And your birthday is in what, two weeks?”

“Two and a half.” Martin says.

“We’ll make an evening of it.” Jon says. “This isn’t to say I don’t want top surgery, because I do. I think it’s time I started really making plans for it. I want to, even if I don’t go out looking for a surgeon tomorrow.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m really looking forward to going round the castle.” Martin says. “You’ll have to put it off until the day after tomorrow.”

Both of them snort. And it’s just right, Jon knows. His place in the world isn’t just ‘within Martin Blackwood’s arms,’ but at least a portion of it is.

“I will do it.” Jon says, surprising even himself with how serious about it he sounds. “Just maybe not right now.”

“In your own time.” Martin says. “It’s not like there’s any kind of deadline.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not transitioning, but I do know that in the UK, HRT and most forms of gender confirmation surgery are available on the NHS. But the waiting lists are very long - normally starting at around 2 years (i.e. 2 years from getting a referral to the gender clinic to your first appointment).  
> -Appointments and surgery are free on the NHS. Prescriptions are currently £9.15 ($12.43) (the fee can be waived if you're low income). However, there aren't that many gender clinics and travel costs to get to one can be high.  
> -While $12.43 per prescription probably sounds lovely to most of you Americans, hormonal birth control is actually free on the NHS, and quite easy to get hold of. So technically, some hormones are free...  
> -Many people choose to go private to skip the waiting list, but this requires some money. It's also much easier to self-refer if you go private. Cost of private appointments vary. Private surgery is also available.  
> -You can get shared care where a private clinic makes recommendations to your GP, who writes prescriptions. This means you have the cost of private care for appointments (e.g. taking blood tests), but all your prescriptions come through at the cheaper NHS rate. Not all GPs allow shared care, but most do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -DYSPHORIA  
> -Jon trying to push himself through an act that is making him dysphoric (Martin notices and stops before it goes too far)  
> -Wearing a binder for an unsafe length of time  
> -Orgasm control and cock rings  
> -Impact play, including the use of a crop on the balls  
> -Dry orgasm

Martin isn’t lucky enough to have a weekend birthday this year. Still, there was cake at work (which mostly took the place of lunch) and a reservation for an early dinner at Martin’s favourite restaurant. There are cupcakes back at the flat for later too, but the rest of the evening is tantalisingly free.

And Jon remembers what he promised.

He’s been remembering all day. All week if he’s honest with himself.

It’s not as if he’s _scared_ or anything. Jon tells himself that Martin has seen his chest plenty of times. Has touched it too. Jon’s asked him to do that. Jon’s enjoyed it.

This shouldn’t be anything different.

When they get home, Jon doesn’t rush to get his binder off. There’s nothing unusual about that, really. He knows he’s been wearing it for too long - and didn’t even take a break from it at lunch because everyone was there for Martin’s birthday. But that’s not too far from the norm, right? He usually wears his binder for too long.

Far too long, Martin sometimes tells him.

Martin settles on the sofa when they get in. He toes his shoes off and wiggles his sock-clad feet at Jon. Then he reaches for the remote and turns the T.V on.

“Oh.” Jon says, still standing in front of the door he just locked. “I thought we were going to…” He glances towards their bedroom. 

“Let’s let dinner settle first, yeah?” Martin says. “We just had a lot of food.”

That’s sensible. They can do the sex stuff later. Jon relaxes slightly, now that it’s no longer looming over his head.

Martin puts on the episode in a show he’s been watching. Jon picks up the book left on the coffee table. He knows Martin won’t be offended if he reads instead of watches. Martin knows Jon doesn’t tend to get invested in T.V. with the exception of certain documentaries.

Jon sits down by Martin, nestled into his side. Martin certainly doesn’t mind that, even if his arm is pinned behind Jon’s back. Martin curls it around Jon’s waist and gives him a squeeze.

That just makes Jon squirm. It isn’t the most comfortable of positions, and it can’t be that nice for Martin either. He wiggles his way out of the hold, murmuring a couple of apologies to a slightly startled-looking Martin.

Martin’s lap is a nicely appealing offer. If he bends his knees, then the three seater sofa is just about long enough that Jon can lie with his head in Martin’s lap and not have his feet hang off the end. 

Jon opens his book, although it is a little hard to concentrate on the words with how Martin’s hand strokes through his hair almost idly. If Martin keeps that up for the remaining forty-five minutes until the show is done, Jon will be a pile of goo well before it’s over.

And he is. Or if he’s not goo then he’s in a condition adjacent to sleep by the time the credits roll. A little pop-up appears in the corner of the screen: next episode will play in 15, 14, 13…

Martin clicks cancel, then turns the T.V. off.

Jon swallows around the lump that has suddenly formed in his throat.

Martin’s clearly angling to get up, so Jon sits up so that he’s no longer in his boyfriend’s lap. No longer in the way. As expected, Martin stands. He holds his hand out for Jon and Jon only hesitates slightly before he takes it.

Martin pulls him up. Actually it’s more of a yank, one that jerks Jon into his body. He does have a habit of doing that - a means for an accidental hug. And sure enough, after Jon’s stumbled into him, Martin catches him around the waist and squeezes.

Something in Jon’s guts squirms. There are… better places for Martin to put his hands. Especially if this is about to head to the bedroom. Jon leans in to kiss Martin, adds in a bit of tongue and heat. Martin makes a soft noise and his hands slide down to grasp at Jon’s arse.

“Are you ready?” Jon asks.

“Bedroom first?” Martin says. “I think you’d find this a little more comfortable on the bed.”

Jon doubts he’s going to find this comfortable any which way they do it. Especially on a day when his dysphoria is like this. But it’s Martin’s birthday and he did promise.

Martin takes his hand and leads Jon into the bedroom. Jon can’t shake the feeling that Martin’s walking him past the gallows. 

They halt at the head of the bed. Martin kisses him again, and Jon does his best to throw himself into it. It’s a good distraction. He runs his hands down the front of Martin’s chest, feeling the buttons of his shirt run along his palm.

Martin’s fingers undoing the buttons at Jon’s collar are like having a bucket of ice water thrown over him.

“Maybe we should undress ourselves?” Jon says. “Might be easier.”

Martin pulls back. Then he looks down at his own shirt. “Oh, yeah, the buttons on this are kinda fiddly, I guess?”

Jon takes his trousers off first, because that’s just easier, isn’t it? And it feels a little silly to remove his pants while he’s still wearing his shirt. So he’ll take that off first. In just a moment.

He’s still playing with the hem of his shirt when Martin’s standing there, fully naked.

“Jon?” Martin asks. “Are you, uh, okay?”

Martin’s hands come around his waist again and this time Jon’s gorge rises.

“Can you not touch me there. Right now I mean?” Jon says.

God, it’s not often that he gets _waist_ dysphoria. But it’s sort of all over right now.

“Oh, I, uh-” Martin flounders for a moment, standing there. He clearly wants to touch Jon right now, but has no idea of where’s safe. He settles for Jon’s hands, which is alright. “We don’t have to do this, you know.”

“It’s your birthday.” Jon says. “And you really wanted this. I don’t want to let you down.”

“You’re not letting me down!” Martin says. “I’m not comfortable doing anything you aren’t comfortable doing.”

“What if I’m never comfortable with it?” Jon says. He feels guilty as soon as he says it. This isn’t supposed to be about him. He shouldn’t let his own stupid issues get in the way of what Martin wants.

“Then we never do it.” Martin says. “It’s not going to kill me if I don’t.”

“Another time, maybe.” Jon says. “The dysphoria comes and goes a bit. But today isn’t good.”

“I know that.” Martin says. “And I want you to know it’s fine if you never want to do it either.”

“I don’t know if that will ever be the case.” Jon says. “Should I get my strap out?”

“Why would you do that?” Martin asks.

“So that we can have sex.” Jon answers. “It is your birthday.”

“You don’t have to offer just because it’s my birthday, Jon.” Martin says. “Are you even in the mood for sex?” 

“It doesn’t matter if I’m turned on or not when I use the strap.” Jon points out. “It’s not like it’s going to go soft.”

Martin sighs, and he sits down on the bed. Jon goes down with him, because despite what he’s feeling now, Martin holding his hands is making something warm curl in his chest. He doesn’t want Martin to drop them.

“There’s a difference between not being turned on and not being in the right headspace for having sex.” Martin says. “I know I might be reading this wrong, but…”

“I don’t think you are.” Jon says. “I might be up for it later. With the strap, I mean.”

“We could just cuddle, instead.” Martin says. “If you wanted.” 

“I-”

“I’m calling little spoon.” Martin adds. “It’s about time I got a turn.”

He’s still in his binder, Jon realises. Yes, it’s a bit uncomfortable, but taking it off would be worse, so it can stay for now. And if he’s the big spoon, he doesn’t need to worry about where Martin’s hands might fall. And he can control how tightly pressed together they are if that becomes too much.

“That’s…” Jon says. “That’s good.”

“Do you want to get dressed again first?” Martin asks. “Or for me to put some clothing on?”

Jon shakes his head. “I’ll keep you warm.”

Martin blushes right up to his roots at that. Jon is helpless against the urge to kiss him, so he does. It’s a sweet thing, Martin’s thumbs rubbing little circles over his wrists. Martin probably wants to touch him in other places too, but he also knows Jon’s about ready to crawl out of his own skin right now, so he settles for what he knows is safe.

Jon holds up the corner of the duvet for Martin like a gentleman. A minute or so later and they’re under the covers with Jon’s head tucked into Martin’s neck. Martin’s hips are really too broad for Jon to throw a leg over, so he slides a shin between Martin’s knees instead.

“It was supposed to be your birthday present.” Jon says.

He doesn’t mention what ‘it’ is. He doesn’t need to.

“I thought the jumper you gave me earlier was supposed to be my present.” Martin says.

“Is it really a gift if I fully intend to steal it after a couple of washes?”

Martin laughs. Together like this, with his arm over Martin’s chest, Jon feels it as much as sees it. “Seeing you in my clothes is as much of a treat as seeing you out of them.”

“So, uh, titty fucking, right?” Jon begins.

“We don’t need to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to do it.” Martin says.

“I’ve already said we might try on another day.” Jon says. “I was just thinking I might be more comfortable with it if it were part of a larger scene. You know, if you fucking my tits wasn’t the sum total of the encounter.”

“Did you have anything in mind?” Martin asks.

“Beyond a fun and flirty atmosphere, not really. Any ideas?”

“You being a bit of a tease, knowing it turns me on. And then me putting you in your place?” Martin says. “I know that’s not much. Maybe you wear something a little more form-fitting? I know you’re not much into that, so we don’t have to-”

“I could. For sexy reasons.” Jon says.

“ _Sexy reasons_ …” Martin repeats in a whisper that borders on a giggle.

“Shut up.”

“What about some bondage?” Martin asks. “Being tied up normally helps you relax. And if I get your arms quite tight behind you, then your shoulders will be pulled back and, you know...”

“I think I’ll be okay with that.” Jon says.

“It might not be that comfortable.” Martin points out.

“I thought you were meant to be punishing me for being a tease.” Jon points out.

“Would tickling be on the table?” Martin asks.

“You know tickling is always on the table.” Jon says. He squeezes Martin a little harder for a second or two.

It fits in with the playful atmosphere they want to build and Jon’s always down for being tickled, despite the many ‘no’s and ‘stop’s that happen during. And it brings the possibility of Jon _enjoying_ himself far higher.

“What about a water fight?” Martin asks.

“What?”

“Sorry, just thinking out loud.” Martin says.

“No, carry on…” Jon says, interested to see where this goes.

“We have a water fight.” Martin says. “Maybe make it very clearly in my favour. You wear a white t-shirt that goes see-through when it’s wet.”

“Then you tell me I’m being a tease.” Jon licks his lips. “You tie me up and cut off my shirt. Then you tickle me before fucking my tits.”

“Sound good?” Martin asks.

“I like that idea.” Jon admits.

“I can tell. You’re pretty much humping my arse right now.”

Jo freezes, then realises Martin means that rather more literally than figuratively. The angle’s not right, but he’s sort of been grinding on Martin’s arse.

“Sorry, sorry, I-” Jon starts. “I didn’t mean right this second or anything.”

“Jon,” Martin says, “I think now might be a good time to find your strap.”

“Really?” Jon asks. There’s not much of a ‘closer’ he can get to Martin, but he tries his hardest. The kiss he leaves on Martin’s neck is rather more tongue and teeth than it is lips, but it still makes Martin groan. “Do you want me?”

He snakes a hand around to the front of Martin’s groin, because he’s very much certain that the answer to that is yes. The length he finds there isn’t hard, but it doesn’t stay soft for very long.

“Always, but especially right now.” Martin says. “But you need to let me up now.”

“Must I?” Jon pouts, but he rolls away from Martin and lets him out of the bed.

“I am presuming you are planning to shove something up my arse in the not too distant future?” Martin says.

“Maybe…” Jon replies. If Martin’s patient enough for it (and that’s what he wants), then the answer is a yes.

“In which case I need to use the bathroom first.” Martin says. “Find a big fat cock for me while I’m gone?”

Jon swats at his arse as he leaves for that comment. With a groan, Jon also rolls out of bed. He locates the strap-on under the bed and lays it out ready to put on. Then he goes about selecting a dildo.

Martin likes them big. Bigger than what Jon is generally comfortable with being penetrated with. There’s only so much girth the O-ring of his harness can take. If they ever want to try this with something bigger, they’ll need a Vac-U-lock. Shit, that would have been a good birthday present.

Another time, maybe. After all, that would be a gift for both of them.

Since he’s on his knees in front of their toy boxes and bags, Jon decides he might as well get a few more items out, just in case Martin feels like playing with those too. A couple of pairs of cuffs are a no-brainer. A prostate massager that might be good for foreplay. The crop Jon selects on a whim.

Then he comes across the cock ring they bought a few weeks ago, but never tried. There’s suddenly a lot more saliva in Jon’s mouth.

It isn’t necessarily the idea of the ring makes him want Martin more. But he can imagine how wrecked out Martin might look if they use it. There’s something very much satisfying about pushing him right up to his limit.

It’s not even necessarily sexual. Well, yes, it is. But Jon’s hunger to see Martin like that isn’t sexual attraction. Jon’s never felt a lick of that towards another person a day in his life. But he still gets in the mood for sex and a partner tends to make for a more satisfying orgasm (especially when they will dedicate themselves to getting you off, like Martin tends to). And while he might not be sexually attracted to Martin, there’s no one Jon would rather do this with. There’s no ‘bucket list’ or if I had a chance with…

He likes having sex with Martin and there’s something fufilling about how much Martin wants him. The sex is good, yeah, and he can have good sex with anyone (conversations about monogamy permissive), but there’s not a deeper connection - no love in it - like there is with Martin. And he’d take Martin over any theoretical celebratory crush any day of the week just to feel close with him.

Martin still isn’t out of the bathroom yet. Jon considers what else he should be wearing aside from the strap-on. Fully naked is - yeah, not happening. His binder must have been on for over twelve hours now and he can feel the ache in his chest. He doesn’t want to take it off, but it would also be very unfortunate if this session were cut short by a case of the ‘fuck, can’t breathe’s.

Jon makes a compromise and switches to a sports bra. It doesn’t have the epic power of squish that his binders provide, but he’s flatter than he’d otherwise be, and, in theory, it will stop his chest from moving around too much. His shirt goes back on top.

Jon considers the paraphernalia laid out on the bed, deciding if anything is missing before he dons the harness. A bullet vibe, he decides, might be a nice addition. For him, not Martin. He picks out a remote controlled one, just the right size to sit in the pocket that forms where the base of the dildo will sit in the harness. That way, he has options if he decides he wants to get off.

Martin comes out of the bathroom, naked, just as Jon is adjusting the fit of the harness. Martin bites his lower lip as he assesses the length and girth of the toy spouting from between Jon’s hips.

“Nice.” Martin says.

“Thanks.” Jon says. “There’s a few other things on the bed if you’re interested. No pressure though.”

Martin steps over to peruse. He strokes a finger over the leather on the end of the crop. Then Martin looks from the prostate massager to the remote for the bullet vibe and back again. He picks both up and inspects them and Jon has a momentary panic that Martin is about to press the ‘on’ button, which is not something he’s at all prepared for.

“I don’t think these are a pair.” Martin says.

“They’re not.” Jon confirms. “That controls a bullet vibe I’m wearing.”

“Oh.” Martin says. “So if I press-”

“Not right now!” Says Jon. “If you please.”

“Sorry.” Martin places both items down. “Did you have some kind of a plan with these things?”

“Nothing concrete.” Jon says. “Truss you up and put the cock ring on you and the prostate massager where it needs to go. Optional spanking, then we see how long it takes for you to beg me to fuck you.”

Martin hums as he considers it. “No cuffs,” he says, “but the rest sounds fun.”

“Will you do what I say and not touch yourself unless I give permission?” Jon purrs.

“I’ll be good for you.” Martin says.

Jon smiles, and not in a sweet way. “Put the cock ring on, then get on your hands and knees on the bed.”

Martin lubes up the inside of the cock ring and slips it on. It’s a silicone one, nice and stretchy, which is a good thing because he’s not totally flaccid. It does it’s job quickly, forcing Martin to a full erection in very little time.

Once it’s on, Martin climbs onto the bed, careful not to disturb the neat line of toys they’ve yet to use. He drags a pillow over to him and sets it between his hands. That way, Jon judges, if holding himself up by his arms gets too tiring, he can always hunker down.

“Comfortable?” Jon asks.

“Yes.” Martin replies.

Jon walks over to him. He sets the cuffs aside - if they’re not going to be using them, then they’re just in the way - and picks up the lube. He debates which hand to use. The right is his dominant - or was until he spent several months recovering from burn scars. He regained most of the movement in his hand eventually (even if there is some residual stiffness), but he doesn’t have a lot of feeling in the burned potions.

He decides that doesn’t matter. He’s not that invested in learning the texture of Martin’s insides and he has enough sensation in it to feel when Martin clenches down. And if Martin has any objections to being fingered with Jon’s scarred-up hand, he’s never voiced them when Jon’s done it before.

Jon squirts a dribble of lube down Martin’s crack, and he flinches at the cold. It looks quite nice, so Jon adds a bit more, then smears his fingers through it to coat them.

Martin takes a finger easily. Jon probes him gently, trying to get him used to the sensation. When he judges Martin is ready, he slips in a second. Martin’s breath starts to come in shudders as Jon scissors him open.

“I thought you were going to use the crop on me.” Martin says.

“All in good time, dear.” Jon says. He approximates when Martin’s prostate is and rubs down on it until Martin moans. Then he adds a third finger. “I need to work you open first. I scarcely think you’ll have the patience for it later on.”

“God Jon…” Martin says.

“You love this, don’t you?” Jon says. He gives Martin another finger, then jacks them in and out nice and fast. “That’s four, by the way.”

“I do.” Martin manages between the noises falling from his mouth. “I do.”

He pushes his hand deeper into Martin, so that his palm starts to sink in. He’s well stretched enough that there isn’t much resistance. He idles with the idea of feeding Martin his whole fist - which he knows Martin can take. He’s done it before.

But he has a plan and Martin would probably be content to sit on Jon’s hand until it cramps up. And honestly, the other ideas Jon has are far more appealing and Martin will enjoy them just as much.

Martin whines when Jon removes his fingers, which prompts him to shove them straight back in and give him a bit of a rough fingering until he’s gasping again. The second time he removes his fingers, Jon doesn’t give in to Martin’s whining.

“Hush now,” Jon says as he slicks up the prostate massager, “you’re about to feel nice and full.”

“ _Please_ Jon…” Martin says.

Martin is gaping, over-stretched for the size of the toy that Jon slides into him. But the dildo on Jon’s strap is significantly larger and that’s what Jon was really preparing him for.

“Is that in the right position?” Jon asks.

“Yes.” Martin says.

There’s a few buttons on the base to control the toy. Jon presses the ‘on’ button and he can feel the vibrations even through the base. He keeps it on the lowest setting for the moment. Martin might earn it being turned up later.

“I was planning to hit you now.” Jon says. “Is that alright?”

“Not _really_ hard.” Martin says.

Jon nods to himself. He picks up the crop. It’s heavier than he remembered. He gives it a couple of test swishes in the air.

Left buttock, Jon decides, for the test strike. He aims it carefully, making sure both that the strike isn’t too hard and that only the leather loop on the end of the implement is the only bit to hit Martin’s skin. It makes a sharp crack and Martin jumps.

“How’s that?” Jon asks.

“That’s good.” Martin says. “The vibrator is good too.” He adds.

“Really?” Jon says. He turns it up a bit for that comment.

Martin yelps. “ _Fuck_ , Jon.”

There’s nothing for him to grind on, but his hips jerk all the same. Jon notices Martin’s cock twitch. It’s flushed an angry red.

“Good?” Jon asks.

“Uh-huh.” Martin says. “I love you so much.”

Jon grins and he turns it up further. There’s still another setting to go, but he holds it in reserve. Martin probably doesn’t need it, but Jon’s pretty sure he can’t come in that cock ring anyway.

“Could you come like that?” Jon asks.

“I don’t know.” Martin says. “Maybe?”

“Well, you’re not allowed to.” Jon punctuates this with a sharp smack from the crop and Martin makes a choked off noise. “I’m going to hit you now, either until I’m satisfied, or you’re begging for mercy.”

Jon doesn’t go for a rapid flurry of blows. If anything his pace is slow while he picks out exactly which spot he’ll strike each time he judges Martin is ready for another hit. He never brings the crop down hard enough to properly hurt Martin, or to mark him up, but his arse and thighs do turn steadily pink and Jon works him over.

One of Martin’s elbows gives out. Instead of trying to catch himself, Martin shifts downward, his head on the pillow he grabbed precisely for this purpose. He fists his fingers into his hair.

“Doing okay?” Jon asks, putting the crop down for a moment.

“I’m feeling very good.” Martin confirms. “Keep going.”

Jon hums. Then he leans forwards and kicks the vibrator up a few notches. It’s hard to tell if Martin was about to say something under the chocked up sound he makes. Nothing in it sounds like words.

“Ten more strikes.” Jon says. “Then I’ll fuck you, okay?”

“Okay.” Martin says. His voice is soft.

Most of Martin’s arse is already pleasantly rosy. So instead of hitting him there, where another slap will just amplify the sting, Jon shifts his attention to Martin’s thighs. That’s not to say they’re untouched, but he hasn’t hit them nearly as much.

Martin moans as Jon strikes him on the left, then the right thigh. It’s a nice noise, so Jon does it again, a little higher. Jon brings down the crop again and Martin flinches, but this time it isn’t a strike. Martin shudders as Jon strokes over the marks he made.

Jon gives him another two in quick succession - there’s something more appealing about giving them out in pairs. Martin shudders.

“Jon, I-”

“Four more.” Jon reminds him. “You can take that, can’t you?”

“Yes,” Martin says, “I’m going to-”

Jon hits him another couple of times, intending to finish this off, but it appears ‘finishing off’ is taken a little too literally, as Martin makes a keening noise. His legs tremble and his fingers twist into his hair.

“Fuuuuuck.” Martin says. “God, I’m.., oh, fucking _hell_.”

“Martin.” Jon says when it looks like that fit is over. “That sounded a lot like you coming.”

Martin’s hand disappears under his body. “Nothing came out.” He says.

“I didn’t ask if you ejaculated, I asked if you came.” Jon says.

There’s a pause. “I’m sorry.” Martin says.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” Martin says.

“Do you want to continue or not?” Jon asks.

“Yeah.” Martin says. “I think I can go again. Can you turn the vibe off though, please?”

Jon nods. It’s only to himself because he’s pretty sure Martin can’t see him at the moment. The prostate massager turns off with another press of the on button.

“Now, I believe I said something about you not being allowed to come without permission.” Jon says. “You didn’t ask permission did you?”

“No.” Martin says “I’m sorry.”

“You understand why I have to punish you?”

“Yes.” Martin says.

“Do you have any suggestions?” Jon asks. He’ll consider what Martin says, but that might not be what he goes with. Not that he has much of an idea in mind.

“You should use the crop.” Martin says.

Jon regards the idea with faint amusement. “I think you’ve enjoyed the crop a little too much already.”

“You could use it somewhere sensitive.” Martin says quietly.

“Sensitive?” Jon says. “I’ve already hit you here,” he runs the leather loop over Martin’s arse. “And here.” He strokes it down the back of Martin’s thighs. “And I think I even got you here.” The inside of his thighs.

“Higher.” Martin says.

“Higher?” Jon says. He runs the crop up until the end rests on the back of Martin’s balls.

“There.” Martin says. Jon is suddenly hit with an image of Martin’s toes curling.

“Are you sure?” Jon asks. “We’ve never discussed this and I really don’t want to hurt you badly.”

He knows just how thin the skin there is. And while Jon might not have any balls of his own, he knows they’re very sensitive. ‘Kick me here and I’ll fall straight over’ sensitive.

“I’m sure.” Martin says. “You’ll need to be lighter, though. Much lighter.”

“Okay.” Jon says. “I’m going to give you three. Is that okay?”

“Yes.” Martin says. “I’m ready.”

Jon doesn’t draw the crop back far. There’s a bit of a slapping sound as the leather impacts on Martin’s balls, but the strike doesn’t have anywhere near the strength he was using earlier. Martin still yelps, and his balls jiggle at the hit.

“You can go harder than that.” Martin says.

“Did that hurt?” Jon asks.

“Yes.” Martin replies.

“Then I’m not going any harder.” Jon says. “Two more.”

Jon has half a mind to pick up the remote to his vibe and get warmed up ready to fuck Martin. Not that he’s feeling nothing right now. But it doesn’t seem right. Not when he’s honest-to-God punishing Martin.

Jon can engage in a bit of delayed gratification.

The second hit makes Martin swear. The third gets a noise out of him that Jon doesn’t think he’s ever heard before. He wants to bundle Martin up in a dozen blankets and put him somewhere where he’ll never be hurt again. At the same time, he’s desperate to hear that noise again.

But the punishment is over and it would take begging to get Jon to hit him again. And while Martin may well have some begging ahead of him, Jon suspects it will be for cock, not more licks from the crop.

“Okay?” Jon asks. This time he does reach for the remote and turn his bullet vibe on. There’s only so long he can resist temptation for.

“Yes.” Martin says. “Will you fuck me now?”

“Of course I will.” Jon says. “You did very well, sweetheart.”

The curved toy comes out of Martin with very little resistance. There’s a little more resistance working Jon’s strap in, but Martin moans as he takes it. His cock, red and full, twitches at the sensation.

“Okay?” Jon asks when he’s fully seated.

“Give it to me.” Martin says.

Well, if Mr. Blackwood insists, Jon supposes he can oblige. More regular use with the strap-on has given Jon a good idea of the motion - the roll of his hips - that he needs to use to fuck into Martin. It’s still tiring after a while, but the sweet thrill of the base of the dildo pushing the little vibrator into his clit makes it well worth it.

The noises Martin produces makes it worth it too. He takes the shallow thrusts and deep grinds Jon gives him with no complaints, not even trying to touch himself. Jon’s still pretty sure Martin’s enjoying himself, though.

There’s a spot inside Martin that Jon could seek out if he were really feeling nice, Jon knows. But he’s more preoccupied chasing his own orgasm, the one he can feel building. Besides, with a toy as big as the one lodged up Martin’s backside, there’s no way Jon isn’t hitting it at least some of the time.

“Good?” Jon asks.

“Yes.” Martin says. “Can I take the ring off please? I - _ah_ fuck. Martin, I’m coming.”

Jon grinds deeply as he comes. His cunt clenches down on nothing, but he can still feel the rhythmic spasms. Martin might be saying something, but he’s not really paying attention to that.

Jon pulls back a little after that, but the oversensitivity fades fast. Afterall, it’s only his first orgasm. He falls back into a steady rhythm of thrusts as he fucks Martin.

“Can I?” Martin asks. “Now that you’ve…”

“You can take it off now and come whenever you like.” Jon says. “Do you need me to stop for a moment?”

“Please.” Martin says.

Jon stops for a moment to let Martin shift. He leans back some, moving with Martin as he sits up on his knees. The cock ring is stretchy silicone and requires both hands to take off. Martin removes it, and hunkers back down.

He doesn’t come immediately, although Jon suspects that’s from sheer effort on Martin’s part. It’s a will he’s going to break. He’s too tired for much in the way of actual thrusting, so Jon grinds in in a way he suspects is just as nice for Martin as it is for him.

Martin moans, but not in the way that indicates that he’s coming. He isn’t touching himself yet, which won’t do, so Jon snakes an arm around his hip to lend Martin a hand. That does it, and three strokes later he’s coming over Jon’s knuckles.

Jon waits until Martin’s done before he slowly pulls out. “Okay?” He asks.

“I am feeling very good right now.” Martin says. “Can I…?”

Jon reads between the lines. “Let me get this off, then I want your mouth.”

“‘Course.” Martin says.

It’s easier to get the strap off than it is to get the harness on and comfortable. Jon takes a moment to turn off the bullet vibe. It doesn’t matter all that much right now, but there’s still charge in it and his future self will thank him if he forgets to charge it before they use it again.

Jon lies down in the centre of the bed with his head on a pillow. He lets his legs fall open, feet flat on the mattress.

“Come here.” He says to Martin.

Martin crawls up the bed towards him and situates himself between Jon’s thighs. He doesn’t try to go any higher than that. He knows where he’s needed.

Jon takes Martin by the back of the head. He threads his fingers into Martin’s curls and brings him in. Martin licks from cunt up to clit, then back down again. He noses between Jon’s folds and licks into him.

Jon sighs and leans back into it. He can just enjoy the sensations now and trust that Martin will bring him off. Although if he doesn’t move to sucking on Jon’s clit soon, Jon might need to have words for him.

As if reading his mind, Martin replaces his tongue with a couple of fingers and moves up slightly to seal his lips over Jon’s clit. Jon tries his best to keep the movements of hips mynute, but he can’t really stop himself from grinding onto Martin’s tongue, and very soon he’s falling over the edge.

Martin waits until Jon’s moans die off and he sinks back into the bed. Then he pulls back a little and removes his fingers from Jon’s cunt.

“I love you so much.” Martin says.

“I know, and I also didn’t tell you to stop.” Jon responds.

Martin laughs. He uses two fingers to spread out Jon’s slit, around midway between his clit and his entrance. Then he lays a series of kisses around Jon’s outer lips.

“Stop being a tease.” Jon tells him.

“And why would I do that?” Martin asks between his butterfly kisses.

“Please, Martin.” Jon says. “Touch me. I need it so badly. I want- oh, oh God, Martin.”

Halfway through his begging, Martin takes pity and moves a fraction so that his lips and tongue hit somewhere a lot more sensitive. Fingers re-enter him, more this time. Jon can’t tell if it’s three or four, only that the stretch is as sweet as the sting.

Martin doesn’t seal his lips over Jon’s clit this time. Instead, he engages it with a series of slow licks. It doesn’t work Jon up nearly as quickly, but that doesn’t matter, because Martin’s fingers find a spot within him that makes his toes scrabble on the sheets under them.

“There!” Jon cries. “Right there!”

Martin keeps on it. Jon’s orgasm doesn’t come immediately, but creeps up slowly in a way that won’t let him keep quiet about it. He comes much harder this time, almost tinged with pain with how hard he clamps down on Martin’s fingers.

“Okay, okay.” Jon says, afterwards. “You can stop now.”

“Oh, is that enough?” Martin asks, but he does remove his fingers and roll away from Jon.

“It was perfect.” Jon says. “You always are.”

“Stop it.” Martin says. His cheeks are going red.

“It’s true.” Jon says. “Now, more cuddles, or do you want something to eat and drink?”

“A snack would be great right now, to be honest.” Martin says.

“Well, after that, I think we’ve both earned a biscuit with our tea.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Waterfights (sexual)  
> -Mid-scene discussion of whether Martin should ignore 'no's and 'stop's and only consider a safe word as a lack of consent.  
> -Tickling  
> -Slut/Whore as dirty talk and slut shaming within the context of the scene.

It’s too miserable to go out - the sky is a uniform dark grey and the rain is alternating between coming down in a fine mist and being an honest to God deluge. It’s a waste of a weekend to be honest, especially as it isn’t a day where Jon feels like hiding from the world, but at least there are things the two of them can do inside. The heating is on high enough that it doesn’t feel all that miserable.

They spent most of the morning in bed, lazily making out, with a break for a frankly indulgent brunch. That was hours and a couple of chapters of Jon’s book ago, though. 

“Martin,” Jon asks, “do you want to have a water fight?”

“Is that a roundabout way of asking if I want to go outside, because no, or do we have a plumbing problem?” Martin asks.

“No, it’s a roundabout way of asking if you want a belated birthday present.” Jon says.

“Oh!” Martin says. “Are you up for that today?”

“You’ve spent most of this morning with your hands on my tits, I thought that might be a bit of a hint.” Jon says.

“So long as I haven’t made them too sore.” Martin says, but there’s a teasing lilt to his tone.

“You haven’t.” Jon says, even though Martin definitely bit him a bit earlier. Whatever bruises there might have been have healed already. “Is now a good time?”

“Sure.” Martin says. “There’s a bit of scene prep to do, right?”

“Yes.” Jon says. “Do you want to get the toys out while I get changed?”

Jon swings his legs over and out of the bed. Before he can get up, Martin catches his wrist and presses a brief kiss to it.

“Remind me what we need again?” Martin asks.

“Ankle and wrist cuffs, and something to connect them.” Jon says. “A blindfold. Some lube would probably be a good idea too.”

“Okay.” Martin says. He rolls out of the opposite side of the bed to Jon and begins to rummage around beneath it.

It doesn’t take long for Jon to change. He never got up to put a binder on this morning and putting one on now would defeat the entire point of the scene. He swaps his comfortable pajama top for a cheap white t-shirt. His sweats will just get horribly water-logged, so he exchanges them for a pair of briefs. 

“Hey Jon?” Martin says.

“Yes?”

“Do you want this?” Martin asks.

It’s a vibrator that Martin’s holding, curved with a bulbous head to stimulate his G-spot. If Martin’s going to be fucking his tits, then it’s not a given that Jon will be receiving any attention down below. Sometimes, that’s what Jon prefers, when Martin’s in the mood more than he is.

But Martin’s also been kissing and touching him all morning. Enough that there’s a low thrum of arousal throughout Jon’s body. Not enough to get him desperate, but certainly enough for him to be interested.

“Yes please.” Jon says. He deposits an armful of clothes onto the floor beside the bed. “I thought it would be a good idea to have some clothes nearby, too. Just in case.”

“Good idea.” Martin says. “Anything else we need to do before we start?”

“Are you comfortable getting a bit wet in that?” Jon asks.

“I think so.” Martin says. “We’re doing this in the bathroom, right?”

“I think so.” Jon says. That’s the room that will take any extra splashes better. “Okay?”

“Oh, one more thing-” Martin says. He dives back under the bed again and comes back up with an honest-to-God waterpistol. A supersoaker. The sort of thing Jon would have been jealous of as a kid. It’s neon green with a tank Jon estimates to hold a litre and half. Perhaps two.

“Where did you get that?” Jon asks.

“I’ve had it for years.” Martin says. “And you did say it’s going to be a water fight, so I’ve had it under the bed a while waiting for you to say you wanted to do it. Didn’t you go and get a weapon?”

“But I-”

Martin sighs. He picks up a plastic cup they keep on the nightstand for midnight drinks of water. It’s empty. “I suppose you could use this.”

Jon takes the cup from Martin. “This is going to be terribly one-sided.” He says with an eyebrow raised.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t prepare.” Martin says. “And this was your idea, too! Are you trying to lose on purpose?”

“Can you actually lose a water fight?” Jon asks. “What are the stakes?”

Martin licks his lips subconsciously. “You definitely can. And the winner gets to do whatever he wants to to the loser.”

“Okay.” Jon squeaks, because it’s a given he’s going to lose. “Bathroom?” 

He turns and leaves without waiting for Martin’s reply, but he can hear the other man on his tail.

The bathroom is one of the more cramped rooms in the flat, but that’s mostly by virtue of it having both a bath and a separate shower cubicle. It’s actually bigger than a lot of the bathrooms the other flats they looked at had, but that comes with the sacrifice of not having a second one.

Martin hasn’t proven to be too terrible of a person to share a bathroom with, so Jon has no complaints.

“Where do you want me?” Jon asks.

“In the bathtub?” Martin suggests.

They don’t use the tub all that often, because it’s more a tool of relaxing than hygiene. And it will only fit one of them, while the shower can do the both of them at once, although it is a bit of a squeeze. But Jon supposes it is a convenient container to catch all the water Martin’s about to squirt at him, and there’s a drain in the bottom. And, unlike the shower, there are no walls for Jon to hide behind.

“Time to fill our weapons!” Martin says cheerily. He turns on the tap at the sink.

Jon turns to the bath taps and fills his cup. It takes a lot less time than the vessel Martin is filling. There’s tension as he waits, but not the bad kind. He can feel Martin’s eyes on him, but when he looks to Martin’s face, he doesn’t meet Jon’s gaze.

Yeah, Martin’s eyeline is distinctly lower than that. Jon’s t-shirt isn’t clinging to him (yet), but a swift glance down reveals that it does nothing to hide how hard his nipples already are.

He’s startled out of that by the sound of Martin screwing the cap back on his water pistol. Then he gives it a few pumps to pressurise the system and Jon can’t hold back his snort, because Martin’s clearly trying to do it in a sensual way and that’s very much not working.

“Are you trying to give your water pistol a hand job?” Jon asks.

“Shut it!” Martin says. “Are you ready?”

He doesn’t wait for Jon to say yes. Martin squeezes the trigger while Jon’s still looking down at his cup, wondering when the best time to throw it would be. An arc of water streams from the weapon and hits Jon on the stomach.

Jon screeches, because that water is plenty cold. He tosses the water from his cup, but it goes wide. Jon hurries for a refill, but when he leans down towards the tap he feels a jet of water soak his back and hair.

He comes back up spluttering, because Martin gets him in the face.

“That’s bloody cold!” Jon says.

“Sorry!” Martin says in a cheerful tone. He angles the water down and it soaks Jon’s chest.

Jon doesn’t have to look down to know what’s happened to his T-shirt. He can tell it’s clinging and see-through from the expression on Martin’s face.

Jon tosses his second cup of water. This one hits, soaking some fabric across Martin’s hip, and he gasps at the sudden cold. It almost doesn’t seem worth it to fill the cup up again. It’s already clear who’s won the water fight. Jon just stands there as Martin empties the tank onto him until it’s spluttering empty.

“So, do I have to refill?” Martin asks. “You’ve stopped fighting back.”

“No.” Jon says. There’s water dripping from the tip of his nose. “I yield.”

“I think you lost on purpose.” Martin says.

“No, I-”

“Jon? Uh safewords?” Martin says. 

“Green.” Jon says.

“No, I meant should I _only_ stop if you safeword? Because you just said ‘no’ and I need to know that?”

“Oh.” Jon says. “Yes. I’m not entirely envisioning this going a CNC route, but I might play a little coy. And I thought you were going to tickle me?”

“Okay. I can do that.” Martin says. Then he slips back into the scene. “You lost, Jon. Get out of the bathtub.”

Jon steps out of the tub and onto the bathmat. Martin steps in close to him and Jon’s body is buzzing in anticipation of his touch. But he doesn’t touch Jon yet.

“What are you going to do to me?” Jon asks softly.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Martin lies.

Martin uses his index finger to draw a line down Jon’s sternum. Then he gets to Jon’s stomach and his fingers spread and dig in. There’s a wicked grin on Martin’s face.

Jon shrieks as Martin begins to tickle him. His legs sag from underneath him and Martin has to loop an arm around him to keep him upright.

“Stop! Stop please!” Jon cries.

Martin actually does, although Jon suspects he’s nowhere close to finished.

“Sorry, love,” Martin says, “you’re irresistible. You know, I can tell exactly what colour your nipples are through your shirt.”

He flicks one of Jon’s nipples and Jon makes a slight noise in the back of his throat. That noise emboldens Martin, and he grabs big handfuls to squeeze. Jon feels his insides squirm with want.

“You did this deliberately, didn’t you?” Martin says. “You wanted to show your body off to me.”

“No. I never-”

“Don’t lie.” Martin leans in close to Jon’s ear. “Whore.”

Jon squeezes his legs together. His body is just filled with want. Martin better move on to fucking him soon. But he doesn’t. His hands come down to tickle him again and all Jon can do is shriek and struggle and the next thing he knows, Martin is picking him up off the floor.

“I think I’ve decided what I want for my prize.” Martin says.

“What?” Jon says.

“I want your underwear.” Martin says.

“What?” Jon says. That wasn’t what he was expecting.

“I said I want you underwear.” Martin repeats. “Take them off.”

Jon takes his briefs off. They’re just as wet as his t-shirt, but there’s a patch on them that’s a little shinier. Where they’ve been soaked through with something other than just water. Jon hands them over to Martin.

Martin lifts the underwear to his face. Jon wrinkles his nose as Martin sniffs. That’s… honestly a little bit weird.

“You’re turned on, aren’t you?” Martin says.

“No?” Jon denies.

“Don’t lie to me.” Martin says. “I can smell it. If you’re that much of a whore, you deserve to be treated like one.”

Martin takes him roughly by the wrist. He grabs a towel with his other hand and pulls Jon out of the bathroom towards their bedroom. Jon only puts up a token bit of resistance.

“Where are you taking me?” Jon asks.

“To my bed.” Martin replies. “It’s where a slut like you belongs.”

“Are you going to fuck me?” Jon asks.

“Is that what you want?” Martin says.

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s tough, because you’re not the one calling the shots here.” Martin says. “If I recall, I get to do whatever I want to with you.”

Martin spreads the towel out on the bed. Jon can admit that’s a good idea. The bath mat caught most of the water dripping off him, but Jon’s beyond damp. It will help protect the mattress, but the sheets are going to need washing after this either way.

“Are you going to get on the bed, or do I have to make you?” Martin says.

Jon has no doubt that Martin will manhandle him up there if he resists. And as fun as that idea seems, he’s eager to get to the next stage.

“Sorry.” Jon says. “How do you want me?”

“Kneel on the towel.” Martin says.

Jon takes his position, kneeling on the towel with his knees shoulder width apart. Martin positions Jon’s hands behind him and fastens each wrist and ankle into a black leather cuff. The wrist cuffs link together, but the ankle cuffs are separate until Martin attaches a length of chain to the eyelet of one, loops it up over the cuffs, and then back down to attach to the other ankle cuff.

“Is that okay, love?” Martin asks.

The chain is just a little too short to be comfortable, although it won’t be painful unless he’s in it for hours, which is unlikely. And he can adjust the slack some by moving his feet or sitting down on his ankles instead of up on his knees.

At full extension, though, it’s short enough to pull his shoulders back slightly, emphasising the swell of his chest. That, Jon suspects, was the entire point.

“That’s okay.” Jon says. “Green.”

“Okay.” Martin says. “I’m going to blindfold you now.”

The blindfold Martin has chosen is a silk scarf. They don’t use blindfolds often enough to necessitate buying one specifically, and the scarfs can be used for other things. Jon isn’t always that fond of being blindfolded (and yes, there’s that slight unease as his sight, his source of power, is cut off), but it’s better than the alternative. He may well enjoy the sensation of Martin playing with his tits, but he doesn’t really want a front row view of it.

He can hear Martin stand back, and the noises that indicate he’s disrobing. Jon wiggles his toes to remind himself that even though he can’t see or feel Martin’s touch on his skin, he’s still a real person. That object permanence is a thing and everything is still where it should be despite the fact he is no longer able to see it.

“You’re quite the sight, you know.” Martin says. “Such a tease. Was this what you wanted to happen?”

“No.” Jon says. “I only wanted to have some fun.”

“And now a big bad man has you tied up in his bed. That’s what happens to whores like you, isn’t it?” Martin says.

“I-” Jon begins, but he shuts up when he feels Martin’s hand on his stomach. It begins to slide down.

“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you? Don’t lie to me,” he says as his fingertips brush Jon’s clit and then dip lower. “I can feel how wet you are. Do you want my cock?”

“Please.” Jon whispers like it’s a prayer.

Martin’s fingers slip into him, fucking him roughly. Jon’s cunt takes them greedily, so wet the motion squelches. His palm is perfectly positioned for Jon to grind into it, and he does with reckless abandon.

“A slut like you doesn’t deserve my cock.” Martin says. There’s a small click as Martin turns on the vibrator, and then, of course, there’s the noise of the vibrator itself. “You’ll have to settle for this instead.”

It slips across Jon’s entrance the first time Martin tries to push it in, but on the second attempt it slides right in. Martin twists it slowly back and forth until Jon starts to moan. He knows for a fact that it is only on the device’s lowest setting, but it’s still very pleasant.

“Is that the right angle?” Martin asks.

“Twist it a little more.” Jon says, and Martin moves it obligingly. “Ah! Right there!”

Martin leaves it there, seated within Jon so that the bend in the vibrator hits right on his G-spot. He doesn’t know if he can come like this, not without attention to his clit, but it’s a distinct possibility.

Martin’s fingers run under the bottom hem of the t-shirt. Jon gasps as Martin pulls it taut. It digs into his hips for a moment, then there’s a loud tearing sound as it rips. Jon clenches down on the toy within him.

“Huh.” Martin says. “I didn’t think I could get through the seams with my bare hands.”

God is he strong.

Martin’s hands cup his chest, feeling out the weight of Jon’s breasts. Jon whines as he thumbs across the nipples.

“Touch me.” Jon whispers.

“Like this?” Martin asks, pinching his nipples.

“Please. I want…”

“You want?” Martin says. “What do you want? For me to play with your tits like this? Or maybe you wanted to show them off to me in the first place?”

“Both.” Jon says. “I wanted you to notice my tits and play with them.”

It surprises Jon, but that doesn’t hurt to say. And it’s true. This is a niche little corner where he actually enjoys his chest. Where he wants to draw attention to it. Where Martin taking notice of it is making him wet.

“Well, how couldn’t I?” Martin says. “You were flaunting your tits, weren’t you?”

“Yes.” Jon replies.

There’s a squelch as Martin squeezes the lube bottle and moments later Jon gasps as the cold liquid splatters across his skin. Martin doesn’t hesitate to rub it in, getting them nice and slick, and probably quite shiny too.

“I’m going to fuck your tits.” Martin says. “Would you like that?”

Jon shakes his head. “I want you in my cunt. Please Martin.”

“Too bad this isn’t about what you want.” Martin says.

Jon yelps as the towel gets suddenly dragged forward, and Jon along with it. Probably Martin rearranging things so he can get the height and angle of this right. He must be right by the edge of the bed now, because Martin steps in close and he’s clearly no longer on top of it.

Jon feels the hard line of Martin’s cock come to rest on his sternum. Then Martin cups him, a hand on either side of his chest, and he presses Jon’s tits up and in until they surround his cock.

The cock between his tits thrusts slowly, its path eased by the lube Martin had smeared on it. Martin tests out his rhythm until he picks something that suits him. It’s slower than the way he tends to rut into Jon’s cunt.

“Fucking Christ, Jon.” Martin says.

He doesn’t keep his hands still. Martin kneads at his breasts as he fucks between them. Every now and again his thumbs brush over a nipple - beaded up so tight they almost hurt. Jon starts to be able to taste the edge of his orgasm - a surprise because it wasn’t a given one would come like this. It’s far off, but every minute he’s like this it crawls closer.

“Martin, Martin I-” Jon begins.

“Quiet, love.” Martin says. “There are more useful things you can do with your mouth than talking.

Jon can take a hint. Without the use of his eyes it’s hard to know exactly where he needs to place himself, so Jon just cranes his head down, lips slack and tongue lolling, until he feels the end of Martin’s cock hit his soft flesh.

Luckily, Martin can do most of the aiming. Jon leaves his jaw loose so that the head does more than just brush against his lips. The taste of him is thick and bitter, but Jon doesn’t mind that much. And if he tires of it, all he has to do is close his mouth.

There’s enough precome getting smeared across his tongue for Jon to know that Martin is close. But Martin’s not the only one teetering on the cusp of an orgasm. Jon crashes over the edge so suddenly it takes him by surprise. He makes most of his moans around the head of Martin’s cock.

“Fuck, Jon.” Martin says. He picks his pace up a little, which makes it hard to keep sucking him off, but sacrifices must be made.

Martin doesn’t turn the vibrator down after Jon’s orgasm - it may be that he didn’t even notice it. It stings for a bit, but Jon rolls with it, and soon enough it’s back to sweetness.

“Are you close?” Jon asks.

“Very.” Martin says.

“Make a mess of me.” Jon says.

Martin groans. He manages a few more thrusts before he abruptly pulls back. Jon can hear his hand flying over his cock as Martin’s semen splatters onto his chest.

There’s a few moments of silence, of non-movement after that. Then Martin is back on him again, crashing his lips into Jon’s. Jon kisses him back with passion

“I take it you enjoyed that?” Jon says when Martin takes a moment to breath.

“So much.” Martin says. “Do you want me to end the scene, or…”

“I want your mouth.” Jon says. “But take the cuffs off, I’m starting to get sore.”

“Hang on, just let me…” Martin says as he reaches behind Jon.

It’s a bit of a fumble to get the cuffs off, but get them off Martin does. Jon’s back gives a couple of clicks as he flexes and stretches out. It turns out the edge of the bed is right there (as Jon suspected), so he throws his legs over the edge and sits up.

“Okay?” Jon says.

“Do you want me to take the blindfold off too?” Martin asks.

“Not now.” Jon says. “Just get between my legs.” That’s far more important.

Martin shoulders in, pushing his way between Jon’s thighs. Jon helps him along the way, hooking his knees over Martin’s shoulders. That should give him plenty of access

He grabs the end of the toy and thrusts it in and out a couple of times. Jon gasps at the sudden attention, his hands clutching at the sheets below them. He can feel Martin’s hot breath on him already and wants more.

“You’re pretty wet down here.” Martin says.

“I already came once.” Jon admits.

“Really?” Martin says. “When was-”

“Martin!” Jon says. “Focus!”

“Sorry.” Martin says. “What can I do for you Mister Sims?”

“Mouth. Now.”

Martin chuckles, but he does as asked. His tongue comes in first, licks a little off centre before it finds its way to Jon’s clit. He goes from turned on to right on the edge very quickly after that, like some attention to his clit was all he needed to come (although, come to think of it, that’s probably the case). Jon rides it pleasure until it becomes too much and cracks into an orgasm.

“I’m coming.” Jon hisses. “I’m com- _ah_!”

Martin sucks him through it until Jon’s body sags as he comes back down. Then he breaks away to ask “one more?”

“Okay.” Jon says.

Martin replaces his mouth over Jon’s clit and this time Jon threads his fingers into Martin’s hair. It’s not to keep him there, except for the ways where it is very much to keep Martin there. This time it isn’t so urgent. Jon isn’t already on edge.

But it’s pleasant. Martin’s tongue swirls over his clit as he alternates between licking and sucking. The massager is still buzzing away, but Martin slips a couple of fingers into him too. Then he remembers it has more than one setting, and he turns the vibrations up a bit, which gets Jon’s toes curling.

It’s almost too much.

“Keep going.” Jon says. “I’m definitely getting there.”

Martin huffs. He shifts a little, which jostles how Jon’s legs rest on his shoulders. The shift must enable a new angle, because Martin’s tongue suddenly begins to hit in a way that makes Jon’s body sing.

“God, just there.” Jon says. “Fuuuuuuuck.”

Martin keeps it up, even though Jon’s hips begin to roll on his face of their own accord. Eventually, he just switches to hold Jon’s hips down with one hand (because goddamn it if Jon will let Martin take those fingers out of his cunt right now) to stop Jon from chipping his teeth. And he keeps taking Jon to pieces.

This time, Jon doesn’t announce his orgasm. He just falls, accompanied with a handful of noises that could be called human if you were generous. It’s not like Martin doesn’t know it’s happening.

Afterwards, Jon flops backwards onto the bed and Martin climbs back up to sit next to him. He feels Martin’s fingers run through his hair.

“Are you going to remove this, or should I?” Martin says as his fingertips trace the edge of the blindfold.

“If you would?” Jon says.

Martin unpicks the knot instead of slipping it off Jon’s head. Jon blinks at the sudden brightness he’s exposed to, and just ends up shutting them again.

“Oh, let me just…” Martin says. The window is a little too far away to reach from the bed, so he has to get up to draw the curtains. The light level goes from bright to dim, which is far more comfortable. “Do you want a tissue or a wet-wipe?” Martin asks.

“Wet-wipe, please.” Jon says, because come to think of it, he is covered in various fluids and none of them make for a pleasant marinade. And he would rather like to put on some clean clothes about now, but like hell is he putting them on over this grime.

Martin hands him the whole packet rather than trying to ration him to a couple of wipes, and Jon cleans himself up before he redresses in the clothes he laid out earlier. After that, well, Martin is conveniently right there and ready to hold him. Jon sinks into the warm embrace of his lover.

“Was that okay?” Martin asks. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than expected.” Jon says. “I don’t think I expected to enjoy it.”

“That’s good.” Martin says.

“That being said, I don’t know if I’ll ever want to do it again.” Jon says.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Martin asks with concern. “You sounded like you enjoyed it, so…”

“I did. It went fine.” Jon says. “But I can enjoy things and not have a particular desire to repeat them. I need to be in the exact right head space to enjoy a titty-fucking, and there are things I like doing in bed more, that I’m up for more often.”

“I like some of those things too.” Martin says.

“Only some of them?” Jon teases. “If it’s really special to you, I can keep an open mind, but it’s not like you can just pick it out for a special occasion, because I don’t know if I’ll be comfortable with it on a particular day.”

“I got to experience it, which is what I wanted.” Martin says. “I’m not going to lie and say I won’t miss it if you get top surgery-”

“When I get top surgery.” Jon corrects.

“Sorry, _when_ you get top surgery.” Martin says. “But I’m also looking forward to the opportunity of seeing you topless a lot more often.”

“Martin!” Jon says.

“I’m just saying! If you get a designer chest, you might as well show it off.”

“Martin!” Jon says again, sounding more scandalized this time.

“Or are you going to be jealous that I’ll have a bigger cup size than you afterwards?” Martin gasps. “Is that it? Jon, the _scandal_! You have to let me be curvy one for once.”

“I am going to strangle you.” Jon says, although he doesn’t move.

“Kinky.” Martin says with an eyebrow waggle. “Do you want to talk about that? I don’t think breathplay is something we’ve discussed.”

Jon makes a frustrated grumble in response. Then he grabs a pillow and tosses it in the vague direction of Martin’s head. Martin dodges, but it serves the purpose of making him shut up and letting Jon enjoy the afterglow in peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow I resisted the temptation to title this 'B(r)e(a)st Intentions'


End file.
